


The Equinox

by ladygrange



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Light Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Spooning, but a disaster not to be found, but it think i have almost reconciled myself to some necessary repetitions, but!, each time i grab hold of something rich, he's RIGHT!!, i get stuck in a kind of static doubt, i still write this dynamic knowing i should probably move on to other (half started) things, it is a joy to be hidden, other times...., something that sustains, sometimes i think i have a good grasp on these things, the same images capture me, the same themes abound, there is such power to writing these moments of meeting, unable to move any which way, understand why i write them and what the undercurrents are, winnicott is right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-11-28 04:30:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18203543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygrange/pseuds/ladygrange
Summary: a tired man, a bathtub, a bookstore, a stool, and more importantly, sex on the living room floor.





	The Equinox

**_Plumpton Place_ **

The bustle of the morning had passed, shirts put on, breakfast cleared, bed made. Then, she had walked into Jimmy’s study to find him sound asleep, the paper forgotten on his lap, his mouth hanging open. Only at her insistence had he agreed to a bath - the water extra warm as he liked. An album played softly from their bedroom. She’d thought the tiredness under his eyes would fade, after all, it’d been a week since he’d come home. A week full of preparations and cat naps on his desk that left imprints on his cheeks.

Ruffled hair she’d smooth down and try a gentle persuasion, rest for more than a couple of hours, please. Jimmy would smile and kiss her and tell her through a yawn that he was simply jet lagged. It would clear up.

She treads quietly to the tub’s edge, where his wrist moves to the rhythm of an odd dream. A sheen of sweat glistens on his face from the steam. She kneels beside him to clear a thick strand of hair from his chin and rubs her thumb over his jaw. Jimmy moves unconsciously into her hand, a mumble on his lips. Closer now, she can smell the shampoo in his hair. She smiles, cups his cheek, and whispers into his ear.

“Wake up,” she soothes. “You’re dreaming, Jimmy.”

Another incoherent word, a twitch of his lips. She jostles him a little and his eyes flutter open. A smile creases their edges.

“Emmaline.”

She touches her nose to his. “Hello.”

“Was I sleeping long?” The smile fades all too quickly. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Not long at all. The record stopped, and I wanted to check on you.” A smile tucks the corner of her lips. “Make sure you haven’t drowned in here.”

Jimmy takes her hand and gives a kiss to the knuckles.

“Not exactly an oceanic trench is it, darling.”

He meets her eyes, she notes the circles underneath.

“No,” she presses her lips to his temple, “but this is.”

She puts her forearm on the curved lip of the tub and rests her chin on top, watching their hands mingling together, his wrist turned out to show its blue tangle of veins. The pulse vital and strong. After a second, she ventures a question.

“Was the dream bad?”

Jimmy shifts in the tub. Time passes.

“Can’t get to sleep well.” An aimless shrug. “Dream badly. Wake even worse.”

His voice drifts off, to something bitten deep in his thoughts. She contemplates the possibility of cancelling everything they have for the day. No. That won’t serve. They both have sinking tendencies. Structure, she decides after a moment, that will serve. A tendril of hair has escaped her clip to drag on the surface of the water. Jimmy watches it silently. She gives his temple another kiss.

“I know.”

She slips from his hand and rises to her feet. Jimmy follows her with his look, his eyebrows rise when she strips her shirt off.

“You’re worrying about the acetates getting to New York.” She drops her shirt to the floor and reaches behind her back for the clasp of her bra. “They haven’t gotten lost in the post, I promise.”

A slight smile tinges his lips. She continues.

“You know Corriston is still searching in Manhattan for a proper shot. He phoned just yesterday about a promising spot in St. Marks.”

Before Jimmy can respond, she unzips her jeans. “You’re worried I’ve electrocuted myself replacing the tube amplifier in that Leslie speaker of yours.” Jimmy manages a word before she beats him to it, stepping out of her underwear in the process. “That only happened once but you’ll never let me forget it.”

Her socks go last - worn green cotton - and end up on the top of the pile. She softens her tone.

“And I know you’re imagining a disastrous lunch with your parents tomorrow.”

Catastrophe has a way with his mind, a thing to mull without end. Jimmy doesn’t make a sound of protest, his expression fixed on her, a mixture of longing and exhaustion. She thinks to herself how often those go together, how unique their complement. She shoos her hands at him.

“Scoot.”

She settles behind Jimmy, careful of the lapping water, and folds her arms around his torso, tucking him between her thighs. His legs outsrip hers almost to the faucet. With her palms full of water, she rinses his chest and collarbones, a kiss or two dotted along his hairline. There is a subtle delight in his lidded eyes when she scratches his nape. He sighs and blinks at her, relaxing into her shoulder.  

“Happened more than once,” Jimmy mumbles, running a long hand along her submerged thigh.

Her brows knit. “What did?”

“You shocking yourself.” He twists slightly to look at her. She’s relieved to find a playfulness there. “Don’t deny it.”

She kisses his upturned nose. “Occupational hazard.”

Crinkles emerge once more. She leans in for a long, slow kiss of lips grippy and wet. Jimmy reaches at an awkward angle for her neck, taking deeply. Saliva slips back and forth; she follows the damp swirl of his chest hair along to a beaded nipple, rolling it lightly under her thumb. Jimmy twitches and pulls back.

“Relax,” she says, with a kiss to his hair, the tip of his ear, just beneath his jaw. “You’re worrying so much,” a kiss to his neck, she brushes the words to that fragile skin. “You need not worry at all.”

She makes patterns down his ribs and belly. Blunt nails draw out sensitivity, fingertips circle his hip bones, down his splayed inner thighs. She watches his breath grow heavier the closer she gets to his lengthening erection. His mouth parts when she skims her nails along the underside of his cock, then delivers a kiss to his bottom lip. Just glancing his tip, bobbing at his navel, and a moan catches in his throat. She grins mischievously at Jimmy.

“Would you like me to take care of that for you?”

Jimmy surprises her by taking her wandering hand and wrapping it firmly around his cock. The skin, already silky, glides easily in her grasp. She presses down to the root, where black hair gathers, and tightens her fist. Jimmy grunts and his hips jerk. She builds an even pace, up and down, her free hand resting on his chest. Soon enough, Jimmy distracts her with a kiss. She obliges, her mouth accepting his tongue, the little, pleased noises he makes when she flicks his nipple.

"Faster?" she whispers between the kiss.

“Yes...” Jimmy manages, tearing away to watch her steadily working hand.

His abdominal muscles tense and shudder. A fractured groan stutters from him at her hand gliding to the very tip, only to pause and give a small squeeze. Jimmy bucks into her hold, and wants her mouth again - tastes it gentle at first, harder when she rubs her thumb around the sensitive head. Gently, she coaxes the skin at his tip back, revealing how red and plump and wanting he is. Jimmy moans in her mouth when she teases the slit, moisture welling out and disappearing into the water. Eyes shut, the tendon in his neck standing out sharply, he slips from her mouth. She knows by his breathing that he’s close. Milky and thick, his semen leaks between her knuckles. She tightens her thighs against his shaking body, slowing her strokes to his breathing, concentrating on his quivering stomach, the whisper of her name. Water laps at the tub, their shoulders have slid down, and she tries to ignore the ache between her legs

Instead, she watches Jimmy, his jaw wavering, head lolling on her breast. She passes her hand over his wet head and lets her own lids close. They snap open at Jimmy’s lips on her nipple. He drags the abrasive flat of his tongue over the pleated skin; a shocked cry leaves her when he bites.

“Jimmy.” Her voice sounds hoarse to her own ears. “You don’t have to-”

Jimmy turns and sloshes water over the edge of the tub. He cradles her face and searches it for a minute. Long pieces of his hair stick to his neck, like running ink. Cheeks a damp pink, something hot and sweet beyond bearing in his gaze. She almost asks him what he's thinking when he takes her mouth.

Jimmy clings to the kiss as though there were something desperately important to find. His other hand trails down her body to trace her breast, the peak of her nipple, and lower still. She opens her legs as much as she can and sinks further into the depths. Jimmy groans when he finds her crease; the sound makes her arch to his touch, makes her fingers tighten in his hair. For a split second, she forgets about their appointment. Surely it can wait for Jimmy drawing circles over her clit, his tongue licking, teeth nipping at her neck. All her wants bent on him inside her.

Something pinches the back her neck, the tines of her hair clip, and pulls her from him. She touches a finger to his lips, all red and slick.

“You’re to meet Henry at half past,” she says softly. “And there’s deliveries for the shop.” His lips turn down and she can’t help deliver a quick kiss to them. “Can’t be late.”

Despite Jimmy’s tight hold, she rises from the water and steps out of the tub. Jimmy gives her a look to say, “yes, we can,” but she ignores it in favor of a towel. She hands one over to him and begins drying her legs. Jimmy takes it reluctantly.

“What about you?” he asks, twisting his hair dry, eyeing her as she covers herself.

She grins at his forlorn expression and waves that away. “You can do me later.”

**_Holland Street_ **

The sleeves of his button down are rolled to his elbows, the back wrinkled and untucked from his jeans. Unadorned save a simple ring of brown agate, cut to a thin circle, with a delicate snake curved under it, tail and head meeting on top. She remembers finding that in a shop with him, somewhere in the Midwest, a dusty antique store. Jimmy cuts through his phrases with that hand, shaping his words with gestures. Quick to smile. Occasionally he works the ring around his finger, a look of total absorption on his face. Then to rest his cheek in his palm, flick his nose with a finger - movement after speech. Henry, sat opposite, holds another book for Jimmy to see and Jimmy catches her gaze and grins.

At A&R, Jimmy had done the same to her. Watched as she moved to whatever was coming through the monitors. The bob and weave of her shoulders, dividing the rhythms with her feet. She remembers, amid the frenzy of mixing the second LP, how Jimmy would sit back at times and only when she turned to ask him a question, would he point out how she’d been moving. Like a composer on the stand, he’d said. Wild in comparison to his little shoulder shakes when something struck him just right. Her smile widens in spite of itself. Jimmy holds her gaze a minute too long, and she remembers his mouth on her, his face in the bath, and swallows and has to look down. Jimmy barely catches the last thread of Henry’s question.

“Ah, no,” he shakes his head, “I haven’t decided on a name for the place yet. Just getting started, really. But I mean for it to be a curation, a place to publish rare works, manuscripts, that sort of thing.”

She busies herself once more behind the short counter, an oversized, antique till situated at one end. Or she tries to. Half distracted in her thoughts, aware of Jimmy glancing at her every now and again. His conversation with Henry had been immediate, the minute they’d walked through the door, to cases of books intended for the walnut shelves on the walls. She likes those best, a warm, glowing quality, almost shining from the plate glass front of the shop. She turns her attention to the congested street outside. Crowds drawn to Holland Street by the bright March weather. She feels cat lazy, sun shining through to make her squint and turn away. Just in time to catch Jimmy and Henry shake hands, a couple of words exchanged before they part ways. Jimmy saunters over to her perch, the stool making their heights even. She grins at his expression.

“Excited?”

He hums. “Can neither confirm nor deny.” A bright smile meets hers and he nods to the shelves. “Come over and help me, darling.”

She hops down and follows Jimmy to the stacks of books. Some are more delicate than others, a choice few wrapped in protective papering. She listens to Jimmy explain the publication history, the types of printing available at each time. Without her noticing, on her tiptoes to shelve a volume, Jimmy has switched topics.

“So,” he says casually. “Someone has an important meeting coming up. Should be interesting to replace Nevison.”

She scoffs and pitches him a look. “Thin Lizzy can barely make decent gigs, can’t get LPs to sell, it’s the perfect time, especially since their contract with Decca is about to end. They’re auditioning a new guitarist as well. And you know, Phil’s a big fan of Kaleidoscope. Bet you two would have something to talk about.”

Jimmy’s got a worried set to his brows. “You know I don’t want you going to Dublin alone.”

“I told you I’d be careful and I meant it,” she makes her tone firm. “I’ll bring you back some Yeats.”

“Is Andy going with you?”

“No, I’m not taking my brother, Jimmy. He’s busy as well. Not quite as busy as you, though. You’ll barely notice I’m gone. Peter wants you to sign off on those Earls Court contracts, and that crackpot transportation scheme. You’ve got the film, the parties for Swan Song. Doesn’t Rogers want you to come out and play with Bad Company?” She settles her hand on her hip. “My point is, it will be fine. There’s plenty, dare I say too much, to keep you occupied.”

“You know too much, darling.” He ponders her for a moment before giving her his best innocent look. “Come along for one session. We can talk about this more when we’re there.”

She gives him a withering look and decides to switch tack. “Actually, did you hear about Ramesses II being found? They’ve flown his mummy to Paris for restoration work, even issued him a valid passport. Occupation listed as king. Can you imagine?”

Jimmy ignores her, locked on the subject, trying his best to bait her. “It’s overdubs. Nothing too overwhelming.”

“ _And_ a whole military procession greeted him. You know I’ve been thinking of a trip to Egypt. We could go next summer, travellers in an antique land and all that.”

“Darling-”

She puts her hand up to stop him. “No, no darlings, Jimmy. There’s going to be plenty of time for you to play me the masters. Or I can buy the LP like everybody else.” She narrows her eyes. “So no more on the subject.”

Jimmy’s frown sinks lower as he shelves a couple more books.

“You know I’m perfectly happy to help you in any way I can.” She ventures.

“But,” Jimmy says.

“ _But_ , I have a job.” She hands him the second volume to his first. “I’ll come to Shepperton, watch you act. How’s that?”

“Christ,” Jimmy says. “Isn’t acting so much, darling. The movie business is absolute hysteria. Remind me never to get involved on screen again.”

“Remember that next time you’re asked to score a picture.” She sidles closer to him and stretches a kiss to his tense jaw.

Jimmy looks down at her and, after a moment, his expression softens.

“You’re not worrying anymore, are you?” she asks, a playful hint to her voice.

Jimmy shakes his head, a smile growing.

“Liar,” she says, rubbing her hand along his back.

“Am not,” Jimmy says, leaning down closer, his breath mingling with hers. He fingers the embroidered detail on the shoulder of her cardigan. Two hummingbirds crossed in flight, threaded with bright colors to offset the black material. “Did you take this from me, darling?”

“No,” she tries to hide her face in his chest but Jimmy catches her tone. He leans down to whisper in her ear.

“Liar.”

Her breath catches at the sensitive nuzzle he gives her neck. Her imagination jumps from a deep kiss to things she knows they can’t do in a shop fronted with windows and nearly in public. Jimmy laves a kiss just under her ear.

“Jimmy,” she manages, her mind foggy with desire. “This isn’t what I meant by later.”

He sucks a mark into her skin, a nip of his teeth finishing the red splotch off. Against the shell of her ear, voice soft and commanding, he says,

“Go sit down, my darling. You look feverish.”

She swallows, heart knocking. The possibilities of what he’ll do, what she’ll let him do, and the idea of being caught mix in her tummy. They muddle together, so that she makes the short distance behind the counter, still debating the risks and rewards. Jimmy takes her underwear with ease, slipping them deftly from underneath her dress and into his back pocket. She gives him an alarmed look.

“What are you doing?” she says with a glance at the door. “We can’t.”

Jimmy takes her hips in his hands and pushes her to the stool. Her feet dangle a couple of inches off the floor. Plenty of room for Jimmy to sink to his knees and burrow under her dress. The space under the counter, its height, and the fabric of her dress allows him to explore her easily and, she hopes, out of sight from passerby. Her stomach clenches at the winding kisses along her inner thigh, the heat of his breath collecting, melting with her arousal. The very tip of his tongue traces the seam of her sex. Just to part her, slip inside to lap and kiss.

Too clever a tongue, too curious a mouth, she thinks. Jimmy shackles her ankles to the legs of the stool to keep her open. She fights the urge to rest her torso on the counter, accept each slick stroke, the contour of his nose pressed to her mound. She rests the heel of her hand on the counter and stares down with a shocked expression as Jimmy swallows her wetness. She’s never been more fiercely aware of her own body’s response. The flutter and flush, the urge to make sounds she knows she can’t make. They crowd her throat and make her breaths harried.

The bell over the door rings.

It’s a strident sound that stands her hair on end. Her legs try to close but Jimmy holds her ankles even tighter. A stooped woman with a stern expression walks in, gives the place a once over before landing on her. Her heart bursts in her chest, cheeks flood red, a shot of heat that leaves her voice a croak. She clears her throat and smiles, lips pulled too tight.

“May I help you?”

She struggles to contain a stutter, her hands pressed demurely to her lap, to the curve of a head outlined underneath the fabric. She tries to push him down and away but Jimmy retaliates with a bite. Her smile falters.

“This isn’t Arnold’s grocery,” she woman says suspiciously. An imperious edge hardens her expression. “It’s empty.”

“I believe you’ve got the wrong address.” She makes an apologetic face and uses every ounce of will to keep the woman from walking any further to the counter. “I’m afraid this isn’t a grocery, and it isn’t open.”

The woman gives the place another unsatisfied once over, and turns away smartly. The door closes.

“ _Jimmy_ ,” she hisses. He places lewd, open mouthed kisses over her clit. The bundle of nerves doesn’t seem to care about the interruption. Jimmy laps into her opening, darting inside before retreating to her clit. A sweet flinch pulses through her. “Please...”

Disbelieving that she could so totally give in despite pedestrians passing by the front windows, she drops beside the oversized till, out of sight. Her other hand returns to Jimmy’s head, urging him closer.

Her fist digs into the countertop, breath dewy on the cool surface. Jimmy fastens his lips over her clit, licking and licking until she’s tripping towards release. Her hips jerk at the moan that vibrates there. His voice muffled but felt. The urgency of the environment, of Jimmy’s mouth, and her own submission make her hips lurch carelessly towards pleasure.

Orgasm tumbles her too fast, too hard, too _much_ into his waiting mouth. Jimmy suckles her spent. She whispers feebly for him to stop, trying to twist away. But Jimmy isn’t done. He releases her limp calves and presses her thighs wide to lap at her, with indecent sounds that have her shaking on the counter. When his tongue reaches her sensitized clit, she whines and can take no more.

“Jimmy.” She palms her dress over his hair. “No more. Jimmy...”

He nods, and kneads her thighs in his long fingers, and lines kisses to her knee. She gathers herself into a sitting position though her pulse irritates her damp skin and her body can’t seem to get over the simple fact that Jimmy didn’t have her; that she feels a distinct emptiness. Her lips turn down, frustrated at the ache. Jimmy, however, emerges triumphant. Almost immediately, she remembers why none of this was a good idea.

“There’s no need to look so smug, Jimmy.” She tries to smooth out her skirt, right the haphazard situation her hair’s become, but each shift on the stool reminds her of her lack of underwear. “We could’ve been arrested, bloody indecency.” Her words rush out, but Jimmy only seems more amused. She twists her hair into its original shape and points her finger at him. “I want my underwear back.”

Jimmy purses his lips against laughter, but she can see in his eyes. “Yes, darling, from the sound of it, I’m sure that elderly woman was right from MI5, a spook if I ever heard one.”

She huffs. “You know that’s not what I meant. This isn’t the time or the place. You are impatient and...and...” her emphatic voice trails off. “You’ve got...” she reaches for his wet bottom lip, wiping it clean. “What if someone _did_ see? Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin, arrested for -” she puts a hand to her forehead. “Christ in heaven.”

“ _Emmaline_.” Jimmy takes her hot cheeks in his hands and looks at her seriously. He rubs his thumbs over the apples of her cheeks. Concern marks his expression, his hold encouraging her to take a breath and meet his eyes - their disarming care. “Strange woman this morning told me not to worry.”

She chews the inside of her cheek, squirming a little. “Didn’t think you were listening.”

He breathes a laugh and touches his lips to her hers, her taste shared between them. Jimmy pulls back, voice even. “I’m always listening to you.”

**_Plumpton Place_ **

Jimmy had made them a nest on the drawing room floor - enthusiastic in his arrangement of pillows and layers of blankets. She thought she’d dreamed him asking her to get up from the sofa. Her calves stretch and she turns over to find him watching her. Propped on one elbow, having discarded his shoes and trousers, her shoes too, she notes. Her legs swim in the covers he’d put over her.

“You did this?” she asks.

Jimmy nods. “Figured it’d be safer than trying to maneuver the stairs half asleep.”

His face has darkened with a five o’clock shadow. She reaches to skim the backs of her fingers over the faint bristle.

“Are you happy with the shop? Did it go like you wanted?”

His eyes light up, green catching the evening light.

“It’ll look much more complete when more books come in. You know, I found Lockyer's piece on the dawn of astronomy. Beautiful illustrations, darling. Apparently he’d take his students on trips, roam all over the country, to catch solar eclipses.”

“Sounds like your dream job.”

Jimmy smiles and follows her cheekbone with his thumb. “I can’t be there full time, of course. What with Zeppelin and all...” A thought occurs to him and turns down his lips.

“You’ll make the time,” she says, fiddling with her earring, but her hair’s caught in the design. “You’ve got a slew of resources, if you need someone to step in when things get hectic.” She sits up and Jimmy follows her. “Henry sounded almost at enthused as you.”

He nods absently and brushes her hands out of the way. She turns her head while he untangles her. Jimmy removes both, sets them on a table, and takes her face in his hands. He looks at her as though trying to discern a trick of the light.

“What?” she says, an eyebrow raised. She hangs her hands on his wrists as he takes her in. “If you’re trying to divine how far across the Atlantic and into the States the Royal Mail is, then I’ve got some bad news.”

Jimmy chuckles and shakes his head. “Wasn’t thinking of it at all, darling.”

“Uh huh,” She gives him a quick kiss “I’m sure you weren’t.”

Jimmy rubs his thumbs over the apples of her cheeks. “I was thinking,” he pauses to bite his lip at her expectant expression. “You aren’t upset, are you?”

“With you? For what?”

“This afternoon, at the shop.”

Stunned that he could be thinking of that, she squeezes his arms and shakes her head.

“No,” she says evenly. “No, I’m not upset, Jimmy.” She releases his arms and lays back down, stretching her own above her. She points her finger at him and gives him a serious face. “But I do want my underwear back.”

“Really?” Voice sly, smile widening. “I think you do very well without them, darling.”

She laughs. “Fortunately, that’s not for you to decide.”

“I’d wager I have a bit of a say,” he counters, laying a hand on her clothed thigh. Her glances at her, a knowing look on his face. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Oh for heaven’s sake.” She sits up and removes her dress entirely, left only in her stay ups and bra. The bra she drapes over Jimmy’s shoulder.

“For you,” she says sweetly. “It matches the knickers.” She reaches to unclip one stocking but Jimmy’s hand stops her.

“Let me,” he says.

He curls his fingers under the nylon and takes them down by increments. Each exposed inch gets a kiss, until he reaches her bare foot. Heat spreads in her tummy at his warm palm smoothing over her thigh. She rests on her forearms, absorbed in the simple act, in the look of concentration on Jimmy’s face. His fascination with the reflexive twitch in her foot when he kisses beneath her knee. Her quick breath at the swipe of his tongue on her thigh. By the time he gets the other one off, she’s flustered, aware of her sex flowered open before him. She flushes under his gaze - even more under his strong, sure hands pushing her thighs wider. She clears her throat, and nudges his leg with her foot.

“Now yours, Jimmy,” she says, an edge to her voice. “And come down here.”

Jimmy nods, and flits to her eyes, as though pulled from a reverie. His shirt goes and underwear, too. She expects him to pull her underneath him, but Jimmy has other ideas. He lays on his side, hugging her back into his chest, so that she can’t see him, only feel the line of his body behind her. A vulnerable position, she realizes. Jimmy runs his hand along the valley of her waist, the curve of her hip. He takes the heft of her hair and pulls it out of the way to kiss the back of her neck - where the nerves run and shiver at touch. His fingers wander over and around her hip, to the soft thatch of hair between her thighs, to sift through the curls. She knows how damp they must be, the memory of his tongue fresh on her mind. She pushes into his hold.

“Amazing how wet you still are, my darling.” A smile enters his voice. “Responsive, too.”

“Your fault, Jimmy.”

Jimmy hums in agreement and shapes the weight of one breast. A flourish of goosebumps follow and she gasps when he rolls her hardened nipple. He lingers there, until it’s pinched and red, then down to her belly button to take hold of her thigh. Jimmy levers it upward, just grazing the blunt tip of his cock along her slit.

“Tuck your hips against me,” Jimmy instructs. She does, the position aligning her against his erection. Just enough to feel him hot and slick at her opening. His lips curve against her head. “Good girl.”

She whimpers but Jimmy only chuckles and holds her tighter. A little push and he slides to her clit. Her hips rut back instinctively. Her arousal makes it too easy for Jimmy to dawdle and play. Each time he dips inside, with her legs so close together, she shivers at the momentary tightness.

“Please,” she says. “ _Jimmy_ \- _”_

Without warning, in one quick snap of his hips, he’s inside her.

“What is it, my darling?” he coos in her ear.

Her eyes roll back at the extra flex he gives her, the hand holding her thigh moving between. She’s soaked and two fingers slip inside to rest on her swollen, teased clit. Much to her dismay, Jimmy won’t move. A frustrated whimper leaves her mouth, heat coating her neck and face. Her breaths come too fast, but she still manages his name again. Still he doesn’t move. Another whimper and Jimmy bites her earlobe, harder than usual. She flinches in his hold.

“I want you to be still, darling,” he says, kissing his bite. “Be still with me.”

She can’t at first. Her pulse beats between her legs, right against Jimmy’s unmoving fingers. A steadying breath, then the resulting spasm around him. Focusing across the room, the shade of the curtain. Her heart only pounds faster. She exhales, frustrated, feeling on the verge of tears.

“I can’t,” she whines.

Jimmy nuzzles her neck. “You can.”

 _No_. That thought resounds in her head. But she doesn’t have the leverage on her side to push back, or the willpower when Jimmy runs his nose along her neck. He doesn’t kiss, like she thinks he will, or bite, like she knows he will. Instead, she follows his voice.

“I never did thank you for this morning.” Jimmy says as he rubs her clit in one aching circle. “For touching me.” Another circle. “You have beautiful hands, my darling. Have I ever told you that?”

She wants to return the compliment but Jimmy’s teeth scrape along the fragile skin beneath her ear and her words come as a whimper.

“You’ve no idea how much I wanted my come dripping from your mouth,” he skims his fingers along her opening, where she’s stretched around him, “and here, too.”

She shudders against him. Her hand, above her head, searches for purchase, finds his along the way. Jimmy takes it and links their fingers. Another way to keep her still and helpless do anything more than clutch at the fullness inside.

“So close for me, darling,” Jimmy says, an appreciative sound escapes him at the contraction of her muscles. Her buries his face in her neck, his cock twitching inside her, words dripping with need. “Can feel you about to come.”

Her cries leak onto the carpet, soft little whimpers as Jimmy rubs directly over her clit. Her thighs shake, grow wet on their insides when Jimmy thrusts for the first time. He has to fight the pulse of her muscles, collapsing inward, trying to keep him inside. It is an unspeakable relief to feel each catch and clasp, so that her eyes flutter closed and she takes what he offers. Her body milks him and Jimmy surrenders to it with a groan.

His abandon pushes her closer to her tummy. Jimmy is going to get his wish, have him dripping from her, staining the quilt he’d chosen as a top layer. She chokes on her sharp cry when her orgasm hits. Heart struggling against her throat and Jimmy’s fingers, wedged tight between her thighs to nudge her clit again and again with every quick push. His fist above her a necessary anchor. Jimmy presses a kiss to her shoulder, tongue abrasive and wet on her skin. Her name full of moans as he spills himself inside her. She savors the flux of hardness and heat, how he goes tense then relaxes by degrees. Jimmy rocks his hips gently in the aftermath, taking heavy breaths in her hair. She can barely mewl when he pulls out and gathers her up, his knees lined up at the backs of hers. Curved together - two spoons in a drawer.

She knows, were she to stand, her legs would be jelly, her head dizzy, so she lays there with Jimmy. Dozing. Her body heavy and flung and warmed. Through the tall windows the sky mellows to a liquid pink. Spring clouds streak here and there, until the horizon is clean and high. When they’d first bought Plumpton, Jimmy had stood before these windows, gesturing with a huge grin about how Lutyens wanted to preserve the unique shape and arrangement of the glass. Merge Tudor architecture with the Arts and Crafts style. Her lips quirk at the memory. The space had seemed almost too picturesque at first, daunting to furnish, but slowly, they’d added pieces from Pangbourne and her relentless dedication to estate sales around the country. Jimmy releases a big sigh as his body adjusts and breathes against her. Her eyes dip closed and break open again. Faint light streams in - as usual, she wants to watch it fade. There is a quiet here which stuns. A dark more dark than one she’s ever known, not since she was a child. It presses calm around them.

At the crossing between wake and sleep, she turns to Jimmy. She's hesitant to wake him but she knows she'll forget if she doesn't. He grumbles and clutches her into his chest but eventually she gets his eyes to focus.

“I’ve thought of it,” she whispers, her nose a scant inch from his.

“Thought of what, darling?” Jimmy’s voice is slurry with sleep. But he manages a small smile at her enthusiasm.

“A name, for the shop. I know you didn’t want something overly pompous. Nothing long like a barrister’s office. I think The Equinox suits it. Concise but evocative....” she trails off at his silence. “Good? No good?”

She chews her bottom lip and Jimmy tightens the legs he has over both of hers, still contemplating. Eventually, she’ll shimmy her way to her stomach to relieve a numb arm and Jimmy will have wrapped most of his body over her sleeping form. Right now, she waits patiently for his reply.

“Equal night,” Jimmy murmurs, a slight shake of his head, a smile appears.

“Exactly.”

Rain begins to patter on the windows, the shush of it lulling her to sleep. She heaves her breath against Jimmy and covers his cheek with her hand, sliding her fingers into his hair.

“You like it alright?” she murmurs, rubbing circles into his scalp.

He kisses her gently. “I’ll make the call tomorrow.”

She nods and yawns.

“Sleep now, my darling,” Jimmy says.

Her lids droop, are so heavy. His hair, dense and dark in her hand. The night, vast and tender before them. Something remembered deep in the body - a reconciliation of touch and need. With the drowsy smile Jimmy gives her, the kiss she leaves on the hinge of his jaw, she will attend every moment.

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this one’s a bit longer, and wordier than i usually do - there’s more info packed in as well! i hope the prose works in favor of the story, tho. i tried to write their actions in equal measures, narratively speaking, which should mirror the title. if it helps: peter corriston designed the cover of physical graffiti. ron nevison was a sound engineer who worked with thin lizzy for a while, phil lynott was the leader of the group who sang and played guitar. kaleidoscope (the american band) was jp’s favorite group at the time, he really admired david lindley. her brother is andy johns, another renowned engineer at the time, aaaaand i made up the henry character. thank you for reading!! i appreciate it <333


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